Why Lamar's 'untitled unmastered.' succeeds in ways 'To Pimp a Butterfly' didn't
Gods usually get away with what they want. Whether transforming into a swan for sensual seduction or botching bad blood transfusions with Taylor Swift, even missteps are hailed as miracles.
Kendrick Lamar prefers to call himself a king, but his parishioners insist on higher divinity. Few have questioned Lamar's infallibility over the last three years. His run has been mostly spectacular, but all flaws have been airbrushed. Last year's "To Pimp a Butterfly" nabbed five Grammys, unanimous critical raves and instant induction into hip-hop's pantheon for its sprawling ambition, virtuous musicianship and trenchant racial insight. But it sometimes felt indulgent, contrived and devoid of the stark clarity and concise songwriting that made his 2012 debut, "good kid, m.A.A.d city," so compelling.
The semi-sequel to "TPAB" appeared as many albums by today's top stars do these days - suddenly, surprisingly and in full, landing online in Friday's earliest hours. It's called "untitled unmastered." and it is the equivalent of a blood-steak thrown to the wolves, its mere existence hailed as a divine gift from above before listeners even had a chance to digest it. If its predecessor insisted on helium voices and saxophone shrieks, this one subscribes to Wu-Tang's credo that "if ain't raw, it's worthless." In fact, the skulking minimalism of its first song, "untitled 01" (that naming convention is used for all eight songs) could pass for an excavated RZA beat - a reminder of early mixtape cuts when Lamar rhymed over the "Tearz" instrumental, branding himself the "West Coast Wu-Tang."
According to Lamar's Twitter, these new songs are demos from "TPAB" - "In Raw Form. Unfinished. Untitled. Unmastered," as he put it. Calling this "unfinished" is a partial red herring. These tracks might not be as fully conceptualized as most of "To Pimp A Butterfly," but they're far more than fragmentary shards. This theoretical weakness winds up being a source of the record's strength. Whether you prefer "untitled unmastered." to "To Pimp a Butterfly" ultimately reflects what you value most in art. Do you prize the grandiose epic over something simple and lean that hits its comparatively modest goals? Lamar's latest album seemingly intends to be a minor addendum, but instead reminds you why he stoked Pentecostal fervor in the first place.
With "TPAB," Lamar faced himself at a rare crossroads. Being Captain Save a Genre meant obscene pressure to follow up his masterpiece with something more ornate and complex. By draping himself in the signifiers of the Serious Artist (psychic breakdowns, sociopolitical critiques, jazz) Lamar became a bulletproof vessel for people to project their values upon him.
"untitled unmastered." is the counterpoint. It's part of a historical lineage alongside Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska," Bob Dylan & the Band's "Basement Tapes," Prince's "Black Album," and Nas' "The Lost Tapes." The latter is the closest rap analogue - the brilliant "throwaways" of an artist often consumed by the impulse to heap vocal tics, belabored metaphors and high-concept sermonizing to justify his status as Sun God. Hence, these stripped-down castoffs are often better than the obtuse anxiety-warped riddles that burnish your mythology and get you Grammys.
This is the loosest and most playful that Lamar has been since his earliest work - at least as playful as you can be when starting the album with Earth-swallowing visions ripped from the Book of Revelations. The magic comes not only from the breakneck velocity of the rapping and the celestial Transverberation of its Soulquarian-meets-"Low End Theory" production - it's also in the spontaneous asides when the tape keeps rolling after the song has stopped. The end of "Untitled 02," when Kendrick yells "who doing the drums?!" Or the acoustic goofball jokes on "Untitled 07." You hear the laughter, see the empty soda bottles and pizza boxes in the studio, the burnt candles, bitter coffee and blunt smoke. It's a reminder that great music isn't about technical perfection. It's about unmasked humanity.
It's unclear whether adding these songs would've improved "TPAB." They're of similar design, but cut from a different cloth. None of these are hits in waiting. The hooks are mostly nonexistent, but everything flows effortlessly. Like its antecedent, "unmastered untitled." is an anti-Capitalist, anti-racist, spiritual quest for self. It's filled with soliloquies to God and second-guessing examinations in the mirror. Lamar's dyspepsia stems not just from the white record executives indicted on "Untitled 3" for exploiting him for $10.99, but also those in his own hood sipping lean and entrenching stereotypes.
"Untitled 3" finds him toying with and exaggerating racial caricatures to find deeper truths in the universal experience. "Untitled 5" assumes the character of a drunk-driving would-be murderer questioning the tenuous membrane between sanity and lunacy, life and death. Over Thundercat's moon-rock rubber basslines, "Untitled 8" finds Lamar channeling Suga Free and telling the story of his homegirl who turns down a college scholarship in favor of credit card scams. If "TPAB's" general instinct was leaden sermonizing, "untitled unmastered." conveys its message through simpler parables and anecdotes. It's another data point suggesting that the best way to be deep is by not trying to be deep.
While each song is labeled with an alleged date of recording, it's unclear exactly when they were first made. Certain lyrics would point toward this album being tinkered with up until its surprise release. You can see the blueprint for what became "To Pimp A Butterfly," but also the opportunity for another entirely different flight path, a reminder that restraint is one of the most valuable qualities for both immortals and everyday Jobs.